Anchors
by Ista
Summary: Poe finds himself (and a certain First Order General with amnesia) trapped inside a prison run by Grakkus the Hutt after a firefight gone wrong. Both men will have to help each other in order to survive Grakkus' infamous Arena. There's just one other problem: Hux and Poe are chained together. AU. Light Kylux and Stormpilot.
1. Where D'You Wanna Go?

**Anchors**

 **Summary:** Poe finds himself (and a certain First Order General with amnesia) trapped inside a prison run by Grakkus the Hutt after a firefight gone wrong. Both men will have to help each other in order to survive Grakkus' infamous Arena. There's just one other problem: Hux and Poe are chained together. Meanwhile, Kylo and Finn put aside their mutual hatred of one another to rescue their partners. Light Kylux and Stormpilot.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to _Star Wars_ …darn.

 **Warning:** Some violence and gore throughout this fic.

 **Dedication:** This fic is dedicated to **Pricklefritz** , who encouraged me to write a Kylux fic _ages_ ago. Thank you for your encouragement!

 **Chapter 1: Where D'You Wanna Go?**

Poe wakes up to the rattle of chains. The smell of urine in the air and tang of blood in his mouth sharpens his senses.

 _Where am I?_

The memories don't immediately come. His mind is sluggish, and his head throbs like he has the mother of all hangovers. His mouth is dry, and there is no moisture when he swallows.

 _Who did I piss off_ this _time?_

There's a faint whimper directly in front of him, a shuffling sound, and the collective snores of numerous sleeping bodies.

 _This isn't good…_

It's humid, and the stale air collects the scent of those sleepers, potent and heavy; it makes his nose wrinkle. As Poe's eyes gradually adjust to the dark, images flash through his mind's eye, rapid and staccato.

A mission gone wrong ( _story of my life)_ and a rendezvous with an informant who never showed.

It was a First Order trap, of course. Some stormtroopers showed up with Supreme Leader Snoke's lap dog in tow—General Hux.

And _Finn_ was there.

Hairs rise on the back of Dameron's neck.

There had been a jumbled escape attempt to counter the ambush.

But something had happened next that neither Resistance nor First Order expected—a third army intercepted both small groups, a band of heavily outfitted Hutts.

 _Hutts?_

They overtook the stormtroopers easily as the Resistance fighters retreated, but Dameron was caught in the crossfire, and…

 _Here I am_ , he thinks. _In one of Nar Shaddaa's finest prisons, I'd wager. Run by ex-con (and not-my-first-choice-of-creatures-to-snuggle-with) Grakkus the Hutt._

 _Perfect._

Poe doesn't trust the reliability of his limbs, but he slowly straightens stiff knees, wincing as they pop loudly. As he moves, Dameron notices that his orange pilot's flight suit has been replaced by a tattered ash-colored jumpsuit. Standard prison garb, he assumes. He's about to push himself into an upright position when an overt movement of his wrist sets off a metallic jangling, immediately followed by a groan.

The Resistance pilot freezes. He feels the cold metal of the handcuff attached to his right wrist with his left hand. When he follows the chain it's connected to, he touches _another_ wrist.

The plot, as they say, is thickening.

Dameron's brain suddenly reels with the horrifying thought: _It's Finn. They got both of us._

Poe silently prays that his partner was spared as he hunches over to get a better look at the sleeping figure he is now attached to in the dim light. _Not Finn. Not Finn. Please, not Finn. Not Finn._

And it's not Finn.

It's Mr. Fancy Pants himself, General Hux.

* * *

Finn is living out his worst nightmare.

The med droid keeps pushing him back onto his cot as if he's just sustained some life-threatening injury, and not a tiny little scrape. What officially happened: Finn nicked the edge of a line of blaster fire to escape a massive explosion behind him, a TIE fighter in flames. The ensuing, scattered blaster fire barely grazed the skin on his left leg. And then Finn got back into the transport vessel he'd came on

 _(without Poe)_

and high-tailed it out of there before the First Order battalion unscrambled itself.

Poe, on the other hand… Poe is probably locked up or beaten up or _dying_ somewhere on that stinking excuse for a moon, and Finn got away with a paper cut.

"Enough!" Finn spits at the med droid and pushes himself off the cot to resume pacing the med bay. He instantly regrets his harsh behavior. For all Finn knows, this is the same med droid who patched him up after Kylo Ren decided his spine might look better sliced down the middle. It might be the same med droid who gave him sponge baths for weeks (always warm, never cold), who clothed him, who fed him, who even helped him take his first tentative, infant-like steps, and then taught Poe to do all those things to help him. Back when they were new friends, before Poe learned to compromise and before Finn learned how to truly trust someone else.

But, to be fair, the ex-stormtrooper is a bit distracted.

"Sorry…" His apology is weak, and Finn knows it.

The droid mutters a mechanical, rote response and wheels away, and Finn is left with a set of worst-case scenarios currently hammering him over the head.

Back in the First Order, there was a protocol for everything. What you ate, how much you slept, where to walk, what to do in the event of capture. If it benefited the First Order, a stormtrooper might be salvaged. If not, they were left for dead.

But he was in the _Resistance_ now. And the Resistance _always_ crafted missions to save their own or to rescue _anyone_ in need of help. At this very moment, Finn knows over a dozen strategy experts are at work to plan a way to get Poe Dameron out.

At least, they won't have to deal with the First Order again, Finn thinks. While the Resistance retained ships to orbit around Nar Shaddaa, there wasn't a trace of their enemy in the entire system. Any FO troopers or officers who survived Grakkus's attack wouldn't be worth saving.

An ensign by the name of Crescent steps in. His face bears an unnatural, pinched expression.

The ex-stormtrooper stiffens, and he thinks fleetingly: _Not Poe…_

"I have a message from the First Order, Captain…" Carth Crescent's emerald eyes are almost watering with bemusement.

"What?" Finn snaps and he has to take a deep breath, calming his tone. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, with only a hint of a growl. "On whose authority?"

"I-It's Kylo Ren," the ensign stutters. "He wants to speak with you about a… a rescue operation."

Finn is surprised that his own jaw doesn't drop to the floor of the transport vessel.

* * *

Dameron can't really think of a more ironic situation, or a more apropos curse for the current predicament he's in.

Chained to a general of the First Order and the Supreme Lunatic's whipping boy.

 _Hux._

Through the haze of the of the prison's expansive sleeping quarters, the light of a new day slowly leaking through the ratty shades covering the room's scarce windows, Poe examines the sleeping man.

At first glance, Hux appears uninjured. Poe figures this is a good thing, considering the alternative would mean being chained to a corpse. Not that Hux doesn't _seem_ sickly. Dameron deduces that Hux is just naturally pale—his skin nearly translucent. His shock of red hair is mussed, and he is slumped against the wall, right hand lying limp, while the other is slightly askance due to Dameron's previous pull on it. Poe immediately increases the slack on their chain, though there is no need. The FO man is either unconscious or deeply asleep. And upon closer inspection, Poe is deciding on the former. A smear of dried blood—a rust-colored stain—is matted to the hair on his right temple.

 _My situation just keeps getting better and better,_ Poe thinks grimly.

Then someone violently jostles his left arm, and Poe is staring up at the sharpest set of teeth he's ever observed on a humanoid before.

"That's _my_ spot!"

Poe glances around the immediate vicinity and looks back at the slender monstrosity towering above him. He squints.

"You mean this dirt floor?"

" _I_ sleep here in the morning, Novo!"

Dameron can't help himself and feigns confusion. "Is there a sign…?"

The sharptoothed creature makes a strangled kind of grunt and bends forward. Poe is dismayed that the being's breath is more gruesome than its teeth.

It proceeds to grab the lapel of his grey prison uniform and pulls him up.

"Your day has _begun_ , Novo! Better look alive—and take your Anchor with you!" Sharptooth smacks its lips with distaste as it indicates Hux.

 _Novo? Anchor?_

As much as Poe's fiery nature yearns to respond with another snappy comeback, or a question on the creature's nomenclature, he holds his tongue, if not for his own sake, than the other inmates beginning to stir around him. In the growing light, he notices an influx of new prisoners through double doors behind his position. Simultaneously, more and more once-sleeping prisoners begin to rise and groggily plow through double doors opening at the far end of the hall.

 _Shift change,_ he thinks.

"Sorry, pal," Poe says, not bothering to hide the disingenuousness from his tone. "I'd love to stick around and chat, but breakfast _is_ the most important meal of the day."

Turning his attention to his right, Poe faces his biggest issue with mobility at the present moment: Hux is still unconscious. The problem is that Poe could really care less what happens to the FO general, but the whole _chain_ thing throws a serious hitch into his normal routines for this type of scenario. Loathe to interact with the FO general, or show him any pity, Dameron hesitates, then slaps the other man's cheek, not gently.

"Hey!" he says in a half-whisper. "Hey, c'mon! Wake up!"

After a few more seconds of this, the red-head's eyes flutter open, and he groans. When Hux's eyes threaten to shut again, Poe persists.

"Oh _no_ you don't. C'mon—wake up!"

Hux's clear blue eyes flash open this time, traces of annoyance and anger in them, quickly replaced with bewilderment, doubt, and, finally, _fear._

 _That's new_ , Poe thinks.

"What…" His voice is raspy, barely above a mumble. "What happened?" He swallows, eyes widening as he focuses on something behind Dameron. "And…who is _that?"_

Poe doesn't need to turn around. The foul, warm breath on the back of his neck informs him nicely.

"Oh, this is my new friend, Sharptooth. He gets really cranky when he's tired, and unfortunately, we're in his nap zone."

Hux just blinks at him stupidly.

"So let's go!"

The pilot winces as he stands abruptly, his back cracking, but it feels good to be on his feet again. Winking with more Dameron charm than someone like Sharptooth deserves at this particular hour of the morning, Poe jerks on the chain connecting him to Hux. It bounces musically, but still, the general stares blankly from his hand to the strip of metal, as if he can't quite put two and two together.

"Why am I…"

But Dameron has lost his patience, and hastily pulls the chain up, like tugging the reins on a misbehaving tauntaun. A surprised cry escapes the red-head's lips as he is wrenched to his feet, staggering forward. If Poe wasn't sure-footed, the other man would have fallen on his face, but Dameron steps forward and Hux falls into his shoulder, cowering and grasping for something to cling to at the same time.

Poe rolls his eyes, gripping the taller man's left hand with his right.

" _Come. On."_

The pilot pulls the general away from the lanky creature with impressive incisors and manages to keep the other man upright through the dimly-lit hall. Dust flies up around them as they fall into the rhythmic march of at least two hundred other prisoners.

"Stop…" Hux murmurs, the petulant word barely audible.

Poe mutters, "Can't stop now."

The general glances behind them as it to make sure Dameron isn't lying. A mixed assortment of other beings are close on their heels, moving at a faster clip than the ones in front of them. Although Poe hasn't gotten a great look at the other inmates, judging by their size, he knows better to get between them and their breakfast. Temporarily distracted, Hux falters, and Poe tightens the grasp on his arm, bringing the other man closer as they march relentlessly.

"Don't make me drag you!" he hisses between clenched teeth.

Hux responds with a half-hearted moan but ends his protests.

At last, they exit through the gigantic double doors at the front of the barracks and into piercingly bright sunlight. Poe shields his hands with his eyes and takes in the scene before them as sand swirls around his feet, creating a shine like gold dust throughout the compound.

The prison is enormous, with tall stone walls surrounding them in a rectangular shape. Various buildings lie inside the compound, along with numerous tents. And just outside the encampment's walls, an enormous dome rises. It's a place Dameron has only heard of in legends, never actually seen.

 _The Arena._

And despite the heat of the sun breaking upon his face, Poe shivers. He is so taken with the sight of the dome, and the continuous marching, that he fails to notice Hux break away from his grasp, wandering outside of the pack only to lose his footing and topple to the sandy ground. Dameron steps a few more paces before the chain connecting the two men goes taut, and Poe is thrown backwards, landing painfully on his side a few feet from the prone general.

As Dameron slowly gets to his hands and knees, the taste of grit between his teeth, he finally realizes the full impact and meaning of Sharptooth's slang for Hux.

 _Anchor._

Poe thinks he may very well be damned.

TBC

 **A/N:** This is heavily inspired by _Gladiator._ And "Bread and Circuses" from TOS. I got a random idea last week of what would have to happen for Hux and Poe to form an unlikely bromance. Of course, they're going to start out hating each other. Since I see these characters as such polar opposites of each other, I thought their interactions might be a refreshing change from other fics I'm writing. Can't promise very quick updates (unless I absolutely fall head over heels with it and go on a writing spree). Please let me know what you think. ^_^


	2. How Much You Wanna Risk?

**Anchors**

 **Chapter 2: How Much You Wanna Risk?**

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Poe Dameron staggers to his feet and walks double-time over to where Hux is sprawled on his back in the sand, eyes half-lidded.

Poe brings his shackled hand closer merely to inspect the fallen man when Hux whips away, smacking his arm, teeth gnashing. The pilot recoils instantly. In one second, Hux has changed from a man into an animal.

"Where am I? What is going on?!" comes the gargled questions. Although Hux's voice is rough, it is still filled with all of the venom Dameron would expect from a general in the First Order.

"Hey hey hey!" Poe shouts, raising his hands up as if he's afraid to get clawed. "Easy. We're in Grakkus' prison on Nar Shaddaa. We were ambushed during the firefight and captured."

Hux just stares at him, mouth slightly agape, blinking.

Poe leans closer. "Don't you remember?"

Hux hesitates, eyes darting around as other prisoners walk around them, giving the two men a wide berth.

"N-no," he says at last, uncertainty and a mild amount of panic in his voice. "My mind is…blank."

Dameron cocks his head, wondering if the redhead is lying, but there is no indication of it. The man genuinely seems confused.

"Maybe 'cause you hit your head…" Poe reaches down to more closely inspect the wound, but the general lashes out, chains clashing as his arms grab Dameron's in a surprisingly strong grip.

" _Kriff,_ Hux! Let me go!" the pilot yells, wriggling free. He's breathing heavily now, cursing himself as well as the other man for even _attempting_ to care about his well-being.

But just when he's expecting another attack (either physical or verbal) from the general, the First Order's golden boy slowly gets to his feet. A tremor runs through him, and his eyes are brimming over with blue.

"Who is… Who is Hux?"

 _Kriff._

* * *

Finn can feel a headache coming on. Grakkus has just sent a ransom demand: thousands of credits in exchange for Poe. It's an impossible sum, and Grakkus must know Finn will pay it unless…

"—Captain?"

It's Ensign Crescent again, trying to be expedient and polite, but this entire situation is enough to completely unnerve Finn. For obvious reasons.

Poe has been captured. _Poe._ _Captured._

 _When it should have been me. It should have been me. It should have been me all along._

Because, if _Finn_ had been captured, Poe would have immediately known what to do. He would have alerted the rest of the Resistance and rallied Black Squadron and maybe even called in _Luke Skywalker_ to rescue him. Finn probably would have been on that prison for an hour. Maybe two hours—tops.

 _How long has it been? Twelve hours? Fifteen hours?_

Finn takes a deep breath to clear his thoughts and feels the pull on his leg wound.

 _Scratch. Leg_ scratch _. While Poe probably has been wounded and is bleeding and dying and-_

"Yes, ensign?"

"…It's Kylo Ren. He's ready for a direct link. It's a secure channel, sir. Just like you asked."

Is there a hint of fear in Crescent's tone? Finn doesn't blame him. The muscles along Finn's spine spasm painfully just thinking about the damage the Knight of Ren inflicted upon him on Starkiller Base that snowy night several months ago…

"Send him through."

Carth Crescent barely hesitates before nodding and leaving the Captain's quarters. Finn doesn't blame the younger man. This is either something out of a comedy or a nightmare. Resistance personnel do not receive communication from the First Order and vice versa. As far as Finn knows, what he is about to do has never been done before—could even be considered treason. Nevertheless, it must be done. Because Finn is desperate and on his own in this sector of the galaxy.

He's not sure what he was expecting when the link is established. An ominous shadow followed by a black cloak and silver mask on his view screen? A small hooded figure appearing as a hologram on his desk? Instead, a series of words flash on the computer screen in front of him, and Finn knows it's _him._ Straight and to the point.

 **I have a plan to rescue the prisoners on Nar Shaddaa that were taken by Grakkus. I require your assistance.**

Finn chews on his lip, breathing out a sigh of relief that he doesn't have to _see_ that figure again. And he's also glad that Ren didn't appear as a hologram. There's something about viewing a mini-Kylo Ren that makes Finn want to giggle. And that would be highly inappropriate at this moment. Finn eventually responds.

How many of yours were taken?

A few seconds pass, and then:

 **One. How many of yours?**

Finn feels his pulse pick up.

One.

The captain holds his breath and types more.

Did Grakkus send you the ransom note too?

 **Yes, but his request is insulting. A rescue is the only alternative.**

Finn wonders what was "insulting" about the message to Ren. Because the sum was so low, and Ren could obviously pay it?

Another beat, another line of dialogue from Kylo:

 **I believe we should collaborate on this mission.**

The ex-stormtrooper's hands waver simply typing his response.

Grakkus said that he would kill the prisoners if there is any attempt of a rescue.

A pause.

 **Prisoners on Nar Shaddaa are fodder for Grakkus' famed Arena. They will die soon if we do _not_ act.**

Grakkus swore they will not be harmed until the payment has been made.

 **And you trust him?**

Finn barely contains his suspicion, his rage.

Why should I trust _you_?

Another pause.

 **General Hux is inside that prison. He is an asset that I cannot afford to lose.**

In this moment, Finn's mind. Is. Blown.

 _General Hux and… Kylo Ren? Not in a million years. Never. No way. Uh-uh._

 _Really?_

But the more Finn thinks about it, the more it makes sense. Why else would Kylo Ren, the jewel of the First Order, risk men or weapons for a paltry soldier or even an officer, unless the person was someone close to him?

Before Finn can respond, Ren sends another message:

 **My sources tell me that Poe Dameron has been captured as well.**

Finn feels his ire go up again.

So why haven't your precious sources busted our men out yet?

 **The situation is delicate. They await my orders for a rescue. Do I have your cooperation?**

Finn purposefully chooses not to respond right away. _Let Kylo sweat it out a little._

Then:

 **I have notified Grakkus of my displeasure. He confirms that both Hux and Poe are alive and unharmed. He will do what he can to keep it that way.**

Air rushes out of Finn's lungs, and his brain is muddled with so many conflicting emotions that it's difficult to think clearly. Did Kylo Ren just stick his neck out to save….Poe? Of all people?

Before Finn can formalize his answer, he needs to counsel with someone a bit wiser.

I'll give you my response in a day.

Finn pushes a red button on his computer console and terminates the link.

* * *

"You've _got_ to be kidding me," Poe says, not taking his eyes off the other man. "You really don't remember who you are?"

Hux just shakes his head, as if he is the only one in a large group who didn't get the punchline of a joke that was just told.

"You're Hux. General Hux of the First Order…" Dameron tries to put his hands on his hips until he remembers the chain, and then he fiddles with its cuff in annoyance.

"I'm a… general?" Hux's voice is wavery, paper-thin.

Poe mumbles to himself, "Oh, this is _not_ good."

"I'm a general," Hux repeats, as if to himself, and a small smile drifts across his features. The smile reminds Poe of a vine snake before it strikes, and a chill runs down his spine.

"C'mon, _general_ ," he says, yanking the chain forward and causing Hux to fall into step behind him again, rejoining the line of prisoners they were originally following. "We can talk after we get grub."

Poe feels the _smack,_ the _slap,_ of the chain against his legs, like a whip, as the pale red-haired man lingers behind. If he didn't look so pitiful, like a half-awake scarecrow fumbling around on stiff limbs, Dameron would have lost his temper long ago.

But the pilot is acutely aware of how much their actions are being monitored, and there could be consequences for fighting in this type of facility. He instantly scopes out the guard towers, the cameras, the other prisoners with eager eyes who may be working for Grakkus. He wouldn't put it past the overgrown Hutt to hire spies to keep a First Order General and the best pilot in the Resistance under surveillance.

 _Because even though we're just a pair of novos, we're still dangerous._

Dameron grins to himself despite his current situation and jerks the chain, catching Hux straying from the grub line.

"C'mon!" he says, harsh on purpose. _Of all the people I had to get chained to…_

Hux sneers ( _Seems to be his rote response,_ Poe thinks) and picks up his pace, raising his right hand to shield his eyes from the sun. He still wavers on his feet, hesitant, as if lost, and the Resistance pilot feels for the other man despite his own loyalties and history with the First Order.

It's early still, and yet waves of heat begin to reflect off the golden sand at their feet. _How hot does it get on this moon?_ Dameron wonders. He thinks briefly of his time on Jakku, how unprepared he was for the heat of the desert compared to his home on Yavin 4 and its humid jungles.

The grub line is moving quickly, and Poe shuffles forward to the large cauldron and table, Hux close behind. The smell of heat and oats wafts towards him, and Dameron's stomach growls fiercely. Both are given a bowl of some kind of porridge and a violet-colored plastic cup filled with what looks like water by a Gamorrean who is _definitely_ not a morning person.

The Resistance pilot scopes out the corner of an empty table in a covered area, thankful for the shade, and Hux sits across from him. They begin to eat in silence. The porridge is tasteless glop, but it satisfies his hunger. The water has a faint citrus-flavor and is tangy on the tongue. _Vitamins?_ Dameron thinks. Or perhaps added nutrients of some kind. At first hesitant of the flavor, he eventually downs the entire cup, reasoning that he will become dehydrated very easily on this moon if he refuses any liquids he is given. As he finishes up, Poe notices that Hux is picking at his food, nibbling on a small spoonful of porridge only to grimace and set the utensil down.

 _Not used to anything but fancy fare_ , Poe thinks, suppressing a grin.

"Eat," he says instead.

Hux just blinks at him, unimpressed by the command.

"You need to get your strength back," continues Poe. "So eat up."

Hux remains silent and tries a few more spoonfuls but leaves the rest in his bowl, pushing it away as if he's going to be sick. Dameron sighs heavily and picks up the bowl, shoveling the rest of the food in his own mouth.

 _At least it's not going to waste._

A sudden _blast_ through the sky, and Poe looks up, noticing a small craft of some kind taking off in the distance. His heart hammers in his chest, his hopes getting up that it could be the Resistance, coming to save him, that it could be Finn.

 _Finn..._

"So my name is Hux…"

The other man's attempt at conversation pulls Dameron back to the present, and he clears his throat.

 _Be patient. You've barely been gone half a day. He'll develop a plan to rescue you._

"Yeah. You're a general in the First Order. You remember the First Order, right? They're the—" Poe almost says "bad guys" and has to stop himself, "—ones becoming a bigger military presence in the galaxy." _Hoo boy._

Hux nods, but Dameron can't tell if he actually remembers anything, or is simply trying to remember. His blue eyes seem to be far away then snap back, locking on Poe.

"And we know each other?"

"Yes, well, _no_ ," Poe mutters. "Not _well._ I'm a… I'm a commander." Dameron chooses his words carefully. If Hux doesn't know that Poe is Resistance, why tell him and cause more friction between them?

Hux leans back, appraising Dameron. A small smirk twitches at the corner of his lips. "I am your superior, then?"

"Yeeeeah," Poe hesitates. "I guess you could say that. But we kinda work in different departments… I'm a pilot. Best in the… First Order." Dameron has to swallow hard to keep from telling the truth. Suffice to say, he never thought he'd be saying _those_ words ever.

Hux nods his head methodically. "That makes sense."

Their small talk ceases when a horn sounds that makes Poe's ears ache and rattles his teeth. Immediately, prisoners begin dumping their cups, bowls, and utensils in giant tubs and lining up in the center of the prison yard. Dameron is surprised at how nimbly he leaps to his feet, all traces of exhaustion gone from his body, and his mind alert. He thinks back to the slightly medicinal flavor of their water and realizes it must have contained some kind of stimulant.

 _Not as tasty as a cup of caf, but I'll take it._

Hux trips over their chain's slack in the hustle around them and Poe deftly stoops to catch him before he falls, but Hux rights himself and darts away before the pilot can get to him.

"Don't touch me," Hux says emotionlessly, his eyes cold, his mouth a thin line. Dameron backs away from the sheer iciness of the general's tone, but he doesn't argue. And then he's scrambling against the tug of the chain as Hux runs forward to line up.

Poe mutters a curse under his breath. _If that's the way you wanna play it, be my guest._

TBC

 **A/N:** I got a massive brainstorm a few days ago that really inspired me to keep writing this little fic. Sorry about the lack of action in this one—there will be a lot more awesome moments in the future! (And the next chapter will feature some Hux POV. He's so much fun to write. So much evil, so little time!) Please let me know how I'm doing. Thank you so much for your comments, favorites, and follows!

~Ista


	3. I'm Not Looking For Somebody

**Anchors**

 **Chapter 3: I'm Not Looking For Somebody**

A gigantic Lepi with green fur strides past them, wearing a blue uniform that Poe recognizes as guards' colors.

In a booming baritone, it barks out orders: "TRAINEES- ON THE LEFT! NOVOS- ON THE RIGHT!"

 _Novos._ Poe flashes back to when Sharptooth called him a "Novo." It must be a word for "newbie." Immediately, Dameron begins jogging to his right only to be abruptly tugged to his left, his right arm stinging. Hux looks quickly over his shoulder.

"This way, _commander_ ," Hux says with that superior tone again that makes Poe want to smack him on his arrogant little face.

"We're Novos, _general,"_ Dameron rattles back as ingratiatingly as he can manage without making himself throw up. But he doesn't need to say it. Already, the muscular Lepi is towering over them, snarling, its long ears twitching with agitation.

"NOVOS TO THE RIGHT!" he bellows at them. Hux quickly shuffles in that direction, and Dameron bites his tongue to stop himself from chuckling.

Once they are divided and assembled in a straight queue, Dameron turns his attention to others in the Novos line. Each of them stand side by side in pairs, each pair chained together just like Poe and Hux. When Poe glances at the other line of "trainees," he notices a mixture of prisoners tied together and ones that are _not_ attached to each another—though many of these have the telltale shackle on a single wrist that indicates they were once partnered with another.

Poe doesn't want to think about what _this_ detail means. Luckily, he doesn't have to worry about dwelling on it for too long because the Lepi guard is soon barking at them—an introduction of sorts.

 _How swell._

"TRAINING LASTS EIGHT HOURS TODAY! AT THE END OF TRAINING, YOU WILL HAVE YOUR FIRST COMPETITION AGAINST OTHER NOVOS! WIN THE COMPETITION, AND YOU WILL BE REWARDED. THE MORE COMPETITIONS YOU WIN, THE MORE FAVORED YOU WILL BE. BEGIN!"

 _Favored? What does_ that _mean?_

Dameron isn't sure he wants to know.

* * *

 _Who_ are _you?_

While the aggressive Lepi shouts at them, Hux is locked inside his own mind, grappling with repressed memories that simply won't reveal themselves. As if there are a million facts and thoughts about himself that are on the tip of his tongue, but he can't place them or identify them. The process is frustrating in the extreme.

 _Hux. You are General Hux. Of the First Order. You are a General._

Hux remembers the First Order. He remembers a black uniform, a sea of white stormtroopers, and a perpetual coldness. That was his life. That _is_ his life. Control and power and discipline. This is Hux.

 _That's me._

But what of his family? His personal interests? Friends? Lovers? Surely there is no such thing as friendship or romance in the First Order.

Hux closes his eyes against the glaring, too-bright sun. He can't be sure, but there _was_ someone close to him, someone he cared for a great deal, someone with whom he could be vulnerable. And it was a secret.

There is another blaring horn, and the Novos are herded into a group and compelled to jog around the inside perimeter of the prison. Hux's stomach twists into knots at the motion, but the stimulant he must have consumed in the bitter water he drank during breakfast is kicking in with favorable effects.

While his legs get used to moving back and forth at an even pace, the dark-haired commander keeps up with him easily, jogging beside him, his eyes fixed forward. Hux is silently grateful that at least the pilot appears to be in good shape—probably better shape than _he_ is in currently.

"Poe Dameron," the other man says.

"What?" Hux spits out.

"That's my name," says the commander. "Poe Dameron." The other man's eyes lock on him, as if expecting a big parade, or something even rarer—some kind of emotional response.

 _Clearly he knows me about as well as I know myself._

"Good for you," the general says and jogs ahead.

While they are forced to run for what seems like hours, Hux uses the time to scope out their prison. He keeps a mental note of the number of guards on duty and their various positions, cameras placed strategically around the facility, and the ratio of prisoners to guards. Then Hux turns his attention to other Novos in their own group, sizing up each pair to ascertain which ones could be assets and allies, and which ones could be enemies.

On what must be their hundredth jog around the track, sweat is pouring down Hux's back, staining his jumpsuit to a dark grey. Beside him, Dameron sweating too, gasping with the effort. Then, several feet in front of them, a green-skinned Dubravan with sharp black eyes rushes forward, purposefully tripping a smaller humanoid with silver-colored hair who is lagging behind his fast-paced partner. The silver-haired being falls instantly, bringing up clouds of dust and sending the man chained to him jerking backwards and landing painfully on his wrist. His screams are immediate and piercing. Guards rush in, and the Novos group halts their movements. Several fall to their knees with the unexpected reprieve. Hux watches the Dubravan closely as the creature chuckles and high-fives his partner, a tall and bald Fondorian.

Hux puts the Dubravan and Fondorian at the top of his list of inmates to watch closely in the future.

When his vision swims abruptly in and out, Hux feels a weight on his shoulder, steadying him. It's Dameron. Hux barely has time to think, _How did he get there so fast?_ before the general wrenches his arm away.

"I'm _fine_ , commander," Hux says in a voice that he wishes was stronger.

"You were about to _pass out… general_ ," Dameron rattles off, concern obvious in his brown eyes. "And that's what I thought would happen since you decided not to eat this morning and your head injury and…"

 _Does this man ever stop talking?_ Hux ponders. In response, the general walks as far to his right as he can, away from Poe, and ignores him.

Meanwhile, the dust is clearing around the pair that went down. The one whose partner was tripped is simultaneously kicking the silver-haired humanoid and clutching his wrist while shouting insults. Guards eventually pull them apart, and the Lepi rushes in.

"YOU'RE CHAINED TOGETHER NOW! ALL OF YOU ARE! WORK IT OUT!"

Hux feels the metallic cord attached to his left wrist sway, and he catches Poe studying him, before his head quickly turns the other way. Hux wills his breathing to slow, wiping sweat off his forehead before it can run down and sting his eyes. He hates that.

Perhaps the guards are tired of watching the Novos run because they are given a respite and sent to a water station. There is no shade, but at least there is blissful, sweet, unadulterated water. Hux and Dameron mirror each other as they down the entire contents of their pitifully small cups. The general wishes there was more to pour over his face, which he knows will have already turned a bright pink in the sun. He always burns easily.

Dameron taps him on the shoulder and points subtly to a pair of Novos a short distance from them.

"Competition," mumbles Poe.

Hux nods slowly, surprising himself for agreeing with the pilot for once. In terms of sheer strength, no other pair can go up against the Tofs. As Hux examines their gargantuan bodies, he realizes they must be twins—they could almost pass for the same person if they weren't clearly fraternal. Indeed, one of the Tof twins appears to be the only female in the camp. But they both have long flowing brown hair and massive bodies, with limbs as big around as small tree trunks.

Dameron begins, "Hey, what if we—"

Hux puts his hand up without saying a word, silencing the other man. Poe's mouth hangs slightly open, as if he can't believe what the general just did. Hux sniffs.

"Leave the strategy to me, commander."

Poe's mouth closes, but his eyes radiate fire. This delights Hux, because there is not a damn thing the other man can do about it, and he knows it. The general is aware of his lips quirking into a brief smile, as if to say: _Disobey me. I dare you._

Hux's wish to have a reprieve from the onslaught of the sun is granted when the guards in blue suits direct the Novos towards a pool that appears quite deep judging by the dark blue of its contents. Their group is split in half, and Hux and Poe are assigned to the pool first while the other half is assigned to nearby weightlifting station. They form a line, two by two, and wait their turn to begin swimming laps.

Hux can barely contain his eagerness to get in the pool. The cool water laps at his feet, and a sudden memory washes over him, so vivid that his vision of the prison yard is temporarily replaced with an image of a crystal clear lake. Snowcapped mountains adorn the horizon, and the blueness of the sky is reflected in the pristine surface of the large body of water before him. A chill rushes through Hux as he hears a voice calling his name.

 _"Come on! It's not too cold!"_

"Hux!"

The general blinks and is back on Nar Shaddaa, in front of the sun's anvil. He takes a quick breath and turns with annoyance to his left.

"Yes, commander?" he whispers, keeping his temper at bay as a result of the glorious memory he just re-lived, as if he experienced it for the first time.

"Please tell me you can swim," Poe says.

Hux glares at Dameron and would like nothing better than to ignore the other man again, but the prospects of the water make him more amenable.

"It was one of my favorite pastimes as a child."

"Great," mutters Poe, his eyes swiveling downwards at the swirling water before them.

"And _you_ …" Hux chews the word as if it has a bad taste. "I trust you have other abilities aside from flying TIE fighters." When Dameron doesn't immediately answer, Hux says, deadpan, "You _have_ flown a TIE fighter before, haven't you?"

Dameron clears his throat abruptly as if something got stuck in it. "Yeah… those things can really _move_."

Now it's their turn. Hux plunges into the deep water at the same time Dameron does, gasping at its instant chill against his sweaty and burning skin. Grateful for the lightweight fabric of their jumpsuits, the material barely drags at all as it gets wet. For a moment, Hux's head is below the water, and sound is muffled, and then he surfaces, sucking in warm air and paddling forward. The pull of the chain jerks his wrist to the left and descends.

 _Where is the commander?_

A brief moment of panic, and Dameron surfaces on his left, sputtering, his hands flailing. The chain connecting them whips across the surface of the water with each of Poe's frantic movements, and Hux realizes that the other man is not an experienced swimmer.

 _Oh, hells._

"I… thought… you said… you could swim!" Hux shouts over the roar of water, avoiding the chain's movements and trying to orient himself in the narrow pool. Several feet ahead of Poe already, he can feel each stroke the pilot takes like a twitching nerve along his body.

Dameron sputters, "I grew up… near swamps!"

Hux coughs as the writhing chain splashes water in his face. "And…?"

"Not the… greatest conditions… for swimming… unless you wanna… get bitten by a… crystal snake…and die in muck…"

With that, Poe fails his attempt at treading water, and his head sinks rapidly under the pool. More out of frustration than concern, Hux dives backwards and pulls Dameron up by the collar of his jumpsuit. He hears the guards standing on the side of the pool laugh raucously, their chortles muffled by the water blocking his ears, which are probably burning from embarrassment.

Poe splutters, opening his eyes wildly and focusing on Hux. Then he continues talking as if he never stopped: "And don't even get me started on lizard crabs. They're the wor—"

"SHUT _UP_!" barks Hux.

Dameron flinches at the sound, and his hands reach out again in panic, which sends the chain spiraling around Hux's arm like a metallic serpent. Groaning, Hux unwraps it and pulls the chain tight so that his face is inches from the commander's.

"I'm not going to let you drown…" he growls.

 _Although the idea is tempting…_

Dameron bobs his head in understanding. Droplets of water run down his chin.

Hux continues, "But you have to follow my orders. Do as I do."

The general demonstrates a basic dog paddle alongside Poe until the pilot begins to mimic him.

 _At least he's a fast learner,_ thinks Hux.

Once Dameron seems stable on his own, Hux lets out the slack on their links and glides along the water on his back, floating and kicking. In this way, he can keep an eye on the pilot while propelling him forward. Of course, it's a brilliant strategy, and the remainder of their training passes by fairly quickly once Poe gets the rhythm of his strokes down.

Lap after lap, and Hux's fingers are delicious damp prunes. When they are ordered out of the pool, Poe paddles to the edge faster than Hux has seen him move before.

 _At least I taught him how to swim._

Hux lingers in the water, taking his sweet time, and doing a somersault in the pool to get his hair wet before pulling himself up. Water trickles down Poe's tan face and the general vaguely hears more shouting from the guards that it's time for a meal.

As Hux makes a move towards the enormous tent where their last meal took place, he doubles over as an unexpected pain (much stronger than the dull throb that he has experienced so far) hits his temple. The pain is sharp and brings with it what feels like a thousand needles piercing straight through his skull. Hux gasps, temporarily unable to breathe.

"Hux?"

A worried query followed by a firm hand gracing his back.

Despite the fuzziness around the edges of his vision, he slaps the hand away.

"It's _general,"_ Hux manages to growl.

He hopes the venom in his eyes is enough to keep the pesky pilot at bay and in his place. Does the man know no decorum? Does he have any discipline to speak of? It's enough to spur Hux into a frenzy. He cannot confirm whether he is a fighting man or not, but he wagers that his style is less confrontational. After all, why bloody your own fists when you can have someone else do it for you? Which is what makes his current predicament all the more maddening. There is no escape from this man who seems to disregard all personal and professional boundaries. How Poe Dameron can work for the First Order, the general has no clue.

 _Impulsive, emotional, talkative…_ Hux mentally lists Dameron's numerous annoying qualities and can't help but think that Poe reminds him of someone he used to know, someone he was close to.

Someone in the First Order.

Luckily, his vision clears along with his jumbled thoughts as Hux walks towards the meal area. A faint breeze stirs and blows against his soaked jumpsuit, simultaneously drying it and cooling his pink skin delightfully.

Dameron continues to talk despite Hux's determination to overlook him. From what Hux can glean from the constant chatter, Poe never thought he would learn to properly swim.

"If my folks could see me now!" Dameron chimes in brightly as they are given another bowl of abysmal porridge ( _yumm yumm)_ and cup of water. Hux stiffly carries both to a nearby bench attached to a table and slides onto it smoothly. The pilot sits down opposite him, of course, and continues yakking.

"My mother was an excellent swimmer and always encouraged me to swim, but I was always too afraid. But now I see how easy it can be—really, a breeze! Like flying!" His talks animatedly, swallowing spoonfuls of the tasteless paste called "lunch" into his mouth.

"My mother never went outside."

The words pour out of his mouth before Hux can stop them, and he freezes. Dameron is holding his spoon halfway to his mouth, also frozen, staring at the general with wide eyes.

 _You're losing it,_ thinks Hux bitterly to himself. He clears his throat, pretending he never spoke, and attempts to bring his water cup up to his mouth, but Dameron continues talking and gesticulates so that the container jerks out of his grasp, spilling precious liquid all over the wooden table.

" _Kriff!"_ Poe yelps, catching the cup before it can spill any further and Hux feels the anger rising up in his throat.

"You _stupid, idiotic, pathetic_ excuse for an officer! How could you… Ah!" Hux clutches his head again as the stabbing pain attacks his right temple. He moans loudly.

"I'm sorry, Hux!" Dameron says, emphatic. Hux catches a flash of true remorse in his face—so honest, so pure.

 _Repulsive._

Hux takes in a deep breath, willing the pain to go away, and perhaps because Dameron is silent for the first time in several minutes, it does. Hux looks up at the small puddle of water on their table and places his palm in it.

"Have mine," says Poe and thrusts his cup towards Hux's face.

Hux sneers at the pilot. "I don't need it, commander."

"Yes, you do." Poe is nothing if not persistent.

The general waves it away and instead turns to his bowl of mush, but the throbbing in his head still threatens to bring up what little food and drink is already in his stomach. He picks at the bowl with his spoon but eats nothing.

Dameron finishes his glop and bites his lip, studying Hux. "You really gotta eat… general."

Hux would be impressed at Dameron's use of his position if it wasn't too little too late. Now stating his rank just seems flippant.

"You take it," Hux says, pushing his bowl across to Dameron even as his stomach growls in disbelief. Before Dameron can protest Hux's action, the general downs the pitiful amount of water remaining in his overturned cup and steps away from the bench, venturing to the edge of the tent, as far as his chain will allow him, and looks out across the prison yard.

He is unaware of the passage of time, but suddenly the green Lepi is shouting for the Novos to get back into their two groups, and Dameron sets their empty cups and bowls on a collection tray before the two make their way to their next station: _weights._

TBC

 **A/N:** I can't stop writing this little fic! It's way too much fun to write Hux. I apologize if I made Poe into kind of a caricature in this chapter—but I want Hux to perceive his traits as exaggeratedly (is that even a word?) as possible. Besides, Hux really isn't in his best state of mind either. What do you all think? Thanks again for all the kind reviews, favorites, and follows! More delicious hurt/limp Hux in the next one!


	4. With Some Superhuman Gifts

**Anchors**

 **Chapter 4: With Some Superhuman Gifts**

Hux's concussion begins to catch up with him by the time they reach the weights station. A creeping fatigue settles over his body, his vision blurred and foggy. At least the weights area is shaded, mere feet from the pool they had just taken numerous laps in. The water from the pool is evaporating rapidly from his jumpsuit, leaving in its place a steaming humidity.

His chain rattles like dry bones as both he and Dameron step up to the guards, bearing what appears to be some kind of body armor. Upon closer inspection, Hux realizes (with an inward groan) that it is a body plate meant to store weights. The guards place metal loops as big around as a man's calf on silver clips and attach the loops to their breast plates. Each loop must average between five and ten pounds. Once the guards show them how to attach the weights themselves, Hux and Dameron are induced to jog back and forth across the tent before performing numerous other exercises, such as squats and lunges. Hux only has four metal loops on his armor, and he's already sweating.

Beside him, Dameron is as insufferable as ever. _Like an annoying Akk dog,_ the general thinks. Just at that moment, Poe hustles to catch up with him, his mouth open with exertion, and he beams when he catches Hux looking at him, which in turn causes Hux to roll his eyes and notch another metal loop on his armor.

Meanwhile, the hotshot pilot is chatting up with their previously mentioned "competition," the gigantic Tofs. Hux has to give Poe some credit for it—they wouldn't be his first choice of prisoners to make allies, partly owing to their terrifying size.

"Not the strongest swimmer, are yeh?" booms the male Tof, already having notched dozens of loops to his oversized armor so that he resembles some kind of monstrous percussion instrument.

Dameron laughs at himself. Hux notes that the man tends to have a curiously self-deprecating sense of humor. "Nah, but I've got the best teacher!" He shoots another side-glance at Hux, and the general coughs, pretending to be too engrossed with clipping the metal loops to his own chest.

Beside him, the Fondorian who is attached to the devious Dubravan that tripped the silver-haired prisoner earlier during laps is struggling supremely with his weights.

"Why didn't you just let that fool drown?" the Fondorian intones to Hux, his voice conspiratorially low.

Hux's eyes flash to Dameron as the Commander continues talking to the Tofs, oblivious of the bald Fondorian's words.

"I'm Valeri," says the female Tof and jerks a thumb the size of Hux's wrist to her brother. "And that's Rox."

"Poe Dameron," says the pilot genially.

The Fondorian catches his attention again with another spiteful burst of insight: "You'd be much better off without him."

Hux keeps his mouth shut, not surprised when the green-skinned Dubravan slinks over to him, black eyes glimmering insidiously. "We've been watching you," he hisses. "Lose the loser, and team with us. We'll protect you."

"I appreciate the offer. My partner is intolerable…"

In ten seconds, Hux scans the pair and makes his decision.

"….but at least he's a fast learner and not _completely_ incompetent."

At that moment, the Fondorian's poorly shackled metal loops drop simultaneously from his body armor, landing on not only his feet but the Dubravan's as well. Despite Hux's nagging headache, he allows himself a small smile as he steps away from the cursing pair and rejoins Poe with his exercises.

The commander grins at him again. "How many enemies did you just make?"

Hux is not usually a _joking_ type of man, but he is comparatively honest. "Two," he says emotionlessly.

Dameron staggers under the weight of a particularly heavy loop that Rox has just helped him attach to his armor. "Th-thanks, buddy."

As they are jogging around, decidedly slower than before with the extra weights, Dameron huffs and continues the conversation. "Guess how many friends I made."

Hux resists the urge to roll his eyes again. "Two," he says, as if it wasn't worth the breath, which it wasn't.

"That's right!" Dameron says through a gasp. "And you know what _that_ means, right?"

"Do tell."

"We're _tied!"_

 _Of course it's a game. Isn't everything a game with Poe?_

"Joy," Hux says through gritted teeth and jogs ahead.

 _Tied. In more ways than one._

Not in a hurry to befriend his own subordinate and break with regulations, Hux is determined to ignore his counterpart. As the session progresses, neither of them have the breath to converse anyway. Hux is weighed down by so many metal loops, he feels as if the moon's gravity has increased tenfold, and Dameron's so covered with extra poundage, he appears less like a prisoner and more like an obscenely decorated admiral.

And still, the guards compel them to jog in unending laps, back and forth in the blazing hot sun, running the length of the tents parallel to the pool. Hux is vaguely aware of the other prisoners jogging and panting beside them, chains clanking in unison, loops clashing like cymbals, but he is mesmerized primarily by the pool. Shards of silver light bounce across its rippling surface and straight into his memory.

In retrospect, Hux should have been more cautious, should have kept his guard up against an attack he had practically invited by insulting the Fondorian—but Hux is unprepared when the Dubravan sidles up to him, black eyes darker than marbles, and says:

"Try to swim _now_ , teacher!"

And the Dubravan pushes Hux into the pool.

The moment his skin touches the water (milk-white, delicate) the general instantly flashes back to that lake by the mountains. But the memory has sharpened since the last time he viewed it, like zooming up close on a stranger's face to realize it's someone you know. Rather than a pleasant family outing, he is surrounded by other younglings, taunting him, jeering at him, dragging him closer to the water's edge on that bitterly cold afternoon. Despite his protestations (teeth bared, fingers scratching like claws), they haul him out to the deep edges of the shore and release him.

Hux remembers the roar of water in his ears, then a calmness and a sinking. A part of him wanted to continue settling into the unknown depths (so like space, escape!) forever and always. But, of course, his instincts kicked in. And, even without knowing how to swim, he fought his way to the surface. Because he was Brendol Hux's son. Because he was going to be a general in the Empire some day.

Now, weighted down not only with armor but with an overwhelming exhaustion, Hux looks to the black depths of the pool and doesn't bother to look up.

He sinks.

* * *

Everything happens so fast. One second, Poe is panting hard for breath, keeping his head down against the onslaught of the sun's rays, when he notices the malicious-looking Dubravan from before say something to Hux and push the general into the pool.

It takes Poe a few seconds to process the event and convince himself that it's real. Hux. With a million weights stuck to him. Pushed into the pool.

 _And I'm attached to Hux._

 _Kriff._

"No!" he shouts, but already the chain is rattling beside him, slipping into the dark blue wash of the pool. Poe tries to remove his armor, but his right arm is wrenched from his side by the chain before he can even start. Dameron's boots skid on sand, bringing up dust as he is dragged forward.

"HELP! PLEASE!" Poe screams, his wrist on fire, burning with the strain. He can't hold Hux's weight back plus the other man's body armor. There is some scuffling from the other prisoners, but no one comes to his aid, and the pilot is pulled head-first into the pool.

His eyes flick open to the swirl of bubbles and rush of water in his ears. The mild panic he felt from before when Hux was teaching him how to swim is brought back and amplified in his current predicament. Poe's eyes sting with the chlorinated water—so that he only sees in flashes: the tan of his skin, the bronze of the armor, and the dark silver of the chain around his wrist that continues to tug him downwards, into darkness.

His ears pop painfully, and Dameron can only vaguely see his arms in front of him, like shadows in the murky water. He cannot make out Hux's form, and Poe doesn't know how to unpack the idea that this pool could possibly be any _deeper._

 _Get the weights off get the weights off get them_

His right hand abruptly feels relief when the chain goes slack, but Dameron still can't see Hux, and he knows that he will be unable to save either of them if he still has weights on his body. so Poe fumbles with them. After removing the first loop individually, releasing it to sink to the depths, he knows that he has to try to remove the entire body armor if either of them have any hope of survival.

The chain makes it awkward (and it's heavier than a Tauntaun) but Poe finally manages to heave the entire gold-plated mess with medallions over his head. As it pinches his side, he releases a burst of air, floating in soft bubbles upwards, but he's infinitely lighter. Dameron's body begins to float up with the air bubbles, but he is jerked downwards again by the chain.

His lungs are beginning to strain, a dark fuzz lining the edges of his vision, and Dameron swims as quickly as he can, following the link that attaches him to Hux.

 _Kriff kriff kriffing kriff—_

At last his partner appears in his vision—and the sight is not promising. Hux looks to be pinned to the bottom of the pool, braced against white tile as he struggles to remove the metal suit. The red-head's eyes are half-slits, and he is ultra-concentrated, but Dameron can tell that it's a losing battle. Hux's movements suddenly go slack, and Poe reaches him, expending too much energy and precious air. Even though the chain makes his movements clumsy, Poe manages to prop Hux's back against his shin and gets to work on the other man's armor.

Then he stops.

The clasp on the general's armor is jammed. Poe violently jerks it up and down, moving Hux's limp body like a rag doll, but to no avail. All this time, his vision grows as dim as the bottom of the pool, his movements becoming sluggish. He cannot focus, cannot concentrate, and his lungs are straining, burning—

Poe Dameron looks into Hux's face and sees death.

But then…

Hands as big around as his head grab him by the waist, and he is being pulled up, up, up, where it's brighter, the shimmering sun filtering through the haze. It's almost like flying, and he is back in Black One, and there are _stars—_

Poe's head breaks the surface, and he gasps and coughs up water and splutters. The same strong, gentle hands, are pulling him out of the pool and onto solid ground. Poe sits hunched over, head spinning in the light that has turned red, trying to comprehend why he _hasn't_ expired.

A large, cheerful countenance appears in his sight, water droplets like crystals spilling from his facial hair.

"Well, _that_ was fun, eh?" Rox says, as if he had just gone on a prolonged picnic with Dameron and not saved him from drowning.

"H-Hux!" Poe gasps out, his voice shaking.

Rox puts a supporting hand on his shoulder and turns him around to face the other man, lying a few feet away, motionless. A dripping-wet Valeri carries Hux in her arms like a doll. Then she delicately deposits him on the ground and rolls the general onto his side. With a solid _crack_ , Valeri breaks open his body armor like breaking open a nutshell. She tosses the broken armor aside and begins thumping Hux on the back, though not as rough as the treatment she gave the armor. A few heart-stopping moments go by, and then Hux is spewing water and coughing violently, writhing on the ground.

"There, there," Valeri booms at the smaller man.

"Hux," Dameron says, and tries to stand, but he immediately falls down, and Rox grabs him by the shirt-collar. His legs are rubbery, unresponsive.

"Easy, mate! Easy."

The shackle around Poe's wrist rattles as he reaches out for Hux, not trusting his limbs just yet.

"Hey—Hux. Hey!"

The general's glazed blue eyes roll over and eventually focus on him. Hux's chin is glistening with water and spit, and his eyes are wild like some feral animal, curled up on himself in the dirt, his skin so pale that it's white against the orange-brown earth.

"Best you steer clear of that Dubravan and Fondorian in the future," Valeri says to them. She jams her thumb back to the weights tent, and Poe can see the guilty pair, lurking in the shadows, tittering annoyingly. But he doesn't have time for that. He's more worried about Hux.

 _Huh. That's interesting._

What compels him to crawl forward on his shaking hands and knees and offer a hand to the man who represents everything he despises in the galaxy?

 _We got through this together,_ Dameron thinks, targeting his thoughts at Hux, speaking without speaking. _We got through this together, and that's the only way we're_ gonna _get through this._

So Poe reaches his hand out and expects Hux to take it. Weak, half-drowned, exhausted, memory-lost Hux.

But the general simply rolls over so that his back faces the pilot and gets to his hands and knees.

Dameron has barely got his breath back when the Lepi guard is shouting at them again to "GET MOVING, YOU LOT! LINE UP! END OF DAY CHALLENGE!"

Hands like fans spread out, grasp his arms, and gently pull him to his feet. Rox laughs, still soaking, and wrings out his beard with one hand. In front of Dameron, Valeri does the same to Hux, supporting the other man when he falls back and succumbs to another bout of coughing.

"Th-thanks," says Poe to the twins, voice still shaking with shock. "Thank you for saving our lives."

"Don't mention it," says Valeri with a wink and chuckle to Rox.

"Yeah," adds Rox. "Just do us a favor and don't go swimming with weights again!"

The gigantic twins burst into booming laughter, and they disperse with the rest of the Novos to form a line before the guards.

Poe finds his legs moving automatically to follow the group despite their floaty detachment from his torso. He concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other while pulling Hux along like a pet. He wants to stop everything and make Hux lie down and check him out, but knows he will only get abuse and punishment for the action. The blue-uniformed guards did nothing to stop or reprimand the Dubravan from his double-murder attempt, after all. Why should the guards care about their well-being?

 _We're expendable,_ Poe thinks, his teeth chattering at the thought.

Glancing back at the mess of a general, Dameron sizes up the other Novos. Many are soaked with sweat or shivering and wrinkled from doing laps in the pool. None look healthy (save perhaps the Tofs) and all look exhausted as hell.

 _At least we're on a level playing field. Sort of._ Poe winces at the thought of Hux, still recovering from a concussion—malnourished, suffering from exhaustion and probably heat stroke, and now nearly drowned on top of it.

"ALL RIGHT, NOVOS!" yells the Lepi, his long vertical ears prickling as the wind swirls up a light dusting of sand around him. "END OF THE DAY CHALLENGE! FIRST PAIR TO MAKE IT TO THE TOP OF THE ROCK WALL GETS TWO BLANKETS. SECOND PAIR TO MAKE IT GETS ONE BLANKET. FIRST OF EACH TEAM IS DECLARED CHAMPION AND RECEIVES EXTRA RATIONS. THEIR PARTNER IS DECLARED ANCHOR." The Lepi winks, and, for the first time that Poe has seen, actually grins. It's a slightly terrifying gesture. "YOU DON'T WANT TO BE DECLARED ANCHOR."

Hux sways, tugging the chain taut, and Dameron levels it, bringing the general back to his feet. All around him, the other Novos are whispering, exchanging rumors they probably heard from other more seasoned prisoners that morning.

"…Grakkus's patrons pay attention to the end challenges…"

"It's said they bet upon the winning and losing teams…"

"…and they're scouts?"

"They work for other wealthy criminals on Nar Shaddaa…. The ones who win challenges are favored to win battles in the Arena…"

"...and what about the Anchors?"

"They are bet against to die in their first Arena fight."

Dameron finds his rubbery legs lining up more uniformly with the other Novos, shuffled into equidistant groups. Some pairs are talking in low tones, frantically trying to strategize with the little time they have left. Others are kicking at each other and snarling. Still many others are begging for water, water, please, just one sip before they have to compete.

Other prisoners in the yard have apparently been dismissed from their training early so they can watch the Novos' first challenge. Throngs of prisoners congregate on the sides of the course. Some are betting amongst each other, calling out descriptions of Novos. Others laugh uproariously, cat-call, and jeer.

"You're never gonna make it!"

"Do you like pain!?"

"We've got a whole TROUPE of Anchors!"

Before them, the challenge is laid out in three sections: tunnels, hurdles, and a tall rock wall. At the top of the wall are blue flags, fluttering delicately in the breeze.

Poe risks another glance at Hux and is stunned to find the general leaning forward, knees slightly bent, a look of impenetrable concentration on his pale face, his blue eyes almost glowing with intensity.

When Hux catches the pilot looking at him, he spits into the ground and says, voice rough: "What are _you_ looking at?"

Dameron shakes his head with bemusement. "Someone who I thought was gonna fall on his face a few seconds ago. But you've got some _drive_ , Hux."

"I have a fierce love of competition," Hux snaps back. "What do _you_ have, Dameron?"

Poe's laugh turns into a cough. "At this point, I'm not really sure. But I guess a blanket sounds nice."

The Lepi's whiskers bristle as it raises a starting gun in the air. The other guards visibly tense and clutch their weapons. The Novos ready themselves.

Hux says: "Just don't slow me down. Or I _will_ kill you."

Poe is about to respond with a snarky comeback when the gun goes off.

TBC

 **A/N:** How we doin', everyone? This was another fun chapter to write. The next chapter features a lovely combination of exhausted Hux combined with exhausted Poe, and they get to care for each other (in their own particular ways). And you'll get to find out who wins the competition, of course. Thank you again for your kind reviews! You all deserve extra chocolate milkshakes today. Ha!

 **~Ista ^_^**


	5. Some Superhero

**Anchors**

 **Chapter 5: Some Superhero**

Wind blows sand into Dameron's hair.

It happens in slow motion, like looping-the-loop with Black One, BB-8 trilling in his earpiece. That stomach-dip and dive: a weightless, sinking rush.

And then he's running forward. Something close to wind chimes jangle in his ears, and he knows it's the sound of 40 or 50 chains rattling simultaneously, the sound of wrists spraining and welts on arms and legs from the _whip_ of the metal links as they swing violently back and forth, flying forward. Loose, taut, slack, strain.

The tunnels are first, and Hux is in front of him.

 _Kriff, he's fast_ , thinks Poe. He never expected the FO general to recover after the near-drowning just minutes ago, but the red head rushes forward, leaving a trail of dust behind him that blinds Dameron and makes him cough.

The tunnels are just wide enough for a single man to get through them. Poe flashes a glance at the Tofs, a few chutes over, and wonders fleetingly how the twins will ever fit through them. But he doesn't have time to watch their progress because Hux is diving headfirst into a tunnel ahead of him, and Dameron's right wrist jerks forward, causing him to trip and fall down, his knees scraping against rock and sand. The rattle of a chain propels him forward, and he sees Hux's contorted form disappear into the darkness of the tunnel, trailing his left wrist behind him like a kite.

 _"Just don't slow me down. Or I_ will _kill you."_

Dameron grunts and scrabbles ahead, plunging into the tube. He allows Hux to partly pull him through as he awkwardly shuffles on his hands and knees, grateful that the inside of the tunnel is at least smooth against his skinned legs. Poe tastes the stale air, and sweat trickles down his neck and back with the humidity of the tunnel. The pilot knows he is halfway through because splinters of light in front of him become a full moon as Hux exits the tunnel, still dragging him along. Dameron huffs and pants, trying to speed up so as not to slow down his counterpart.

At last, he feels the warm breeze on his cheeks as Poe slides out of the tunnel. Hearing a squeal to his left, he notices Rox tugging Valeri out of their tube.

Poe thinks: _Like squeezing a well-mannered Rancor through a garbage compactor._

Next, hurdles.

Dameron's lungs burn with the effort as he wills his already-tired legs to keep moving faster, faster, faster. He _has_ to catch up with Hux. At the very least, he can't slow him down. Although they made no bargain to win this, Poe remembers the glint in the general's eyes before the competition began—it contained a stubborn certainty and promise of revenge if the race wasn't won. Enough to make Poe bristle with fear.

The hurdles seem standard—roughly 40 inches tall, and they are evenly spaced out the length of hundreds of yards. Poe's lungs are burning, still trying to recover from that _pool_ incident, but Hux is running like his heels are on fire and he has to cool them. He stirs up dust in his wake—fine-grain particles that Dameron breathes in. His starved lungs rebel, making him choke and continue the vicious cycle all over again.

But Hux though.

The man has stamina.

Meanwhile, the Resistance pilot is floundering. Poe has to lean forward just so he doesn't get dragged along for the ride. He is only vaguely aware of the teams on his immediate right and left periphery, and the rest of his sight focuses on the hurdles, like mini mountains, looming ever closer.

At first, Dameron is shy, but his timidity quickly turns to terror as Hux dashes over the first barrier. Soon it will be Poe's turn to jump. He hesitates, wanting to stop, but he sees one prisoner on his right do the exact same thing and lose momentum, which throws the man's partner off, jerking him backwards and smashing his head against the obstacle he just cleared.

A sudden image pops in Poe's mind from his childhood on Yavin IV-massive trunks of fallen Massassi trees dotting the forest floor, hopping over them with his friends on a whim to see how high they could leap.

The square-shaped hurdle in front of him beckons.

Poe's desperate mind transforms the hurdle into a Massassi log, and he leaps.

He clears it easily; it's coming back down that hurts. His feet land painfully on the ground, nearly losing his balance in the process, but he has no time to recover. Hux has already launched over the second hurdle. Dameron braces himself and leaps again. This time, the pilot anticipates his landing and bends his knees to cushion the fall. It works.

Soon, Dameron falls into a rhythm behind the red-haired general. Poe isn't sure what would have happened if he hadn't made it. Aside from Hux killing him, that is.

The Resistance pilot bounds over a third hurdle, a fourth, and a fifth. Soon, they will be done with the second challenge and onto the third. Poe is glad it's almost over. Although the pilot's pace has been picking up throughout the race, Hux appears to be slowing down. In less than a minute, Dameron is running along the general's right side. He has to run with his cuffed hand held up and a solid grip on their chain to keep it from dragging on the ground and tripping them. If Hux notices Poe's proximity, he doesn't show it.

Both of them leap over the last hurdle simultaneously, and Dameron feels air rushing through his lungs. He chances a triumphant smile and a glance around—they are in the lead. Hux's supernatural blue eyes almost glow with concentration as they approach the last section—a truly intimidating sight.

The rock wall stands only a few yards in front of them, like a fortress. It can't be more than 30 feet tall. However, in the Resistance pilot's current physical state, an _ant hill_ would seem insurmountable. Pegs and ropes dot the wall to make for easier climbing ( _How thoughtful,_ Poe thinks fleetingly) and red flags at the top mark a signal to the end of the challenge.

 _This doesn't seem difficult. So what's the catch?_

As Dameron gets closer to it, he realizes that while _climbing_ the structure may not be tedious, it is simply not _big_ enough to give each of the two-dozen Novo pairs a chance to climb.

Meaning they will have to fight each other in order to make it to the top.

Hux must already have realized the rock wall's single flaw, because Poe hears him gasp, "Cover me as I climb."

Translated to: Make sure I get to the top first. That's an order.

Because even though the two of them are competing against all the other Novos, they are also competing against _each other._ And Hux could never stand to come in second to Poe, to be declared Anchor.

Dameron grits his teeth as they sprint to the wall. _As long as I get a blanket, I don't_ care _if you get to touch the pretty red flag first._

Everything is going suspiciously well until it falls apart. Within his unbreakable concentration, Hux is unaware of the other insidious pair trailing on their heels until it is too late.

"Mako, NOW!"

Before Poe has time to lash out, the green-skinned Dubravan and bald Fondorian speed ahead and directly in front of them, stretching their chain out so that it's taut in their hands. Dameron's reflexes are sharp enough to leap over the chain as if it's another hurdle, but Hux, either too intent on the wall or too fatigued from the day's many trials, cannot pick up his feet in time and trips over it. He lands heavily on the ground, stirring up a plume of dust, and Dameron skids in the sand, his wrist tugging against the sudden dead weight on his arm.

 _Kriff._

The Fondorian lets out a hiss of satisfaction as they breeze ahead of them. "Great idea, Lund!"

The green-skinned Dubravan smiles cunningly back at Poe, temporarily stalled, and then continues on.

Dameron curses out loud and thinks: _What I wouldn't give for one of BB-8's shock-attacks right now_ , and he feels a pang in his chest, missing the droid.

A groan from the tangled mess that is Hux, sprawled on his stomach. As Poe kneels to check the general, Rox and Valeri run past the pair, throwing the pilot sympathetic looks.

"Hux, buddy… You okay?"

Hux's face is pressed into sand, and Dameron is about to place a hand on his shoulder to turn him over when a tortured squeal escapes from the general's throat. It is filled with so much anger and rage that Poe recoils until Hux's left hand clamps on his right, like a death grip. The FO general's face slowly turns toward his, shoulders hunched, and Poe views Hux's contorted visage.

The general whispers one word: " _Move_."

Dameron noiselessly grabs Hux's arm and hauls him to his feet before the pilot starts to run. Hux tries to keep up with Poe's pace, but he's limping badly now and slowing both of them down. Poe doubles back, blocking out the image in his mind of Novos closing in on their position, halfway through the hurdles, a wave of prisoners about to wash over them.

"What is it?" he snaps.

"Twisted… ankle," Hux mumbles, and then his eyes flutter close and he begins to fall backwards.

The pilot curses once more and puts his hands on the general's shoulders. When he scans the other man's face, he can see that the wound on his head has begun bleeding again.

"Hux—stay with me!" Dameron barks. The order works, and Hux's eyes open blearily, on the edge of consciousness.

"Did you just… give me a _command?"_ Hux says in a floaty voice, quite unlike himself.

"Well, I _am_ a commander." Poe bites his lip and glances at the rock wall. Lund and Mako have already climbed a third of it and are gaining on Rox and Valeri. They don't have much time.

With a sigh that definitely means _I'm going to regret this later_ , Poe picks up Hux in one smooth motion and folds the general across his shoulders. Dameron grunts with the movement, but finds that moving is fairly easy with Hux—the man is ridiculously light.

A few murmurs of protest from Snoke's lackey. Dameron can't tell how out of it the other man is and worries he will fall.

"Hold on to me," he mutters to Hux and begins to scale the wall.

Dameron imagines that he is climbing trees back at home in order to watch the sunset. Trees so tall that they kiss the sky. Trees so tall that when you're on top of them, you feel you could touch the stars.

Grunting with exertion, Poe shifts the weight of the general on his back and continues to scramble up the wall, finding handholds where he can, always pushing forward, never looking back. Soon, he is on the heels of the wicked Dubravan and Fondorian, who seem to be struggling with the physical exertion of the last challenge.

"Keep going." Hux's warm breath on the back of his neck pushes him onward.

The pilot easily slips past the stalled pair on their right.

"Steady," whispers Hux, and Dameron immediately pauses.

In that moment, Hux moves faster than a Pole-snake and lashes out, kicking Mako roughly. The bald Fondorian's eyes are wide as he loses purchase on the rock wall, and he screams as he falls. His partner has a split second to counter, but Poe is already several feet above him, and he doesn't look down to see Lund's reaction as he plummets after Mako—he can hear the cursing just fine.

"Nearly there, nearly there" Poe pants in between breaths. Rox and Valeri have already made it to the top, each holding a red flag. Dameron's muscles strain, his shoulders aching with Hux's weight. His vision begins to double, and he can feel his legs turn to jelly, but fear keeps him hanging on. The pilot closes his eyes, sweat running into his eyes.

"You can do it."

Poe's eyes flash open. "What?" he gasps, wishing he could crane his neck around to view his partner. It sounded like Hux's voice in his ear. But the general doesn't respond to his query.

 _I must be hallucinating_ , thinks Poe. He shakes his head to clear it and jostles the rest of the way up the rock wall. Rox's beaming and bearded face greets him when his fingers brush the plastic of a red flag. With a moan, Poe pushes himself up on the platform at the summit of the wall. He hears their chain rattle, and Hux extricates himself from Poe's shoulders, silently sinking to the platform.

A surge from the crowd below as it gathers on the sidelines of the course, and Poe can hear scattered shouts and applause.

"We did it!" Dameron cries, a smile breaking across his face despite his exhaustion. Warm wind blows through his hair, cooling his brow. He whoops and pumps a fist in the air as the Tofs chuckle beside him. For a moment, the Resistance pilot forgets that he's in prison on a desert world. Instead, he looks at the sky and thinks of Finn.

 _You're somewhere up there…_

"Hux, we did it!" he says again, but the red head continues to remain silent. "Hux?"

The First Order general sits on the platform, arms folded across his chest, scowling. And, although the other man is trying to hide it, Poe can see that he's trembling too. Whether it's from anger or fatigue, the pilot can't tell.

Poe rolls his eyes. "Oh, _c'mon_. You're not mad because we ended up in second place, are you?"

Hux's decision to ignore him is all the response Dameron needs.

"You did well," Rox says.

"So did you." Dameron offers a hand and watches it become completely engulfed in the Tof's giant one.

 _This guy could snap me in half like a twig,_ he thinks. Then, another random thought: _I wonder why he doesn't._

"They're waiting for us," Valeri says then, and Poe forgets his suspicion. _There_ are _decent people in the galaxy. Despite what your profession has told you over the years…_

The female Tof points below where a small group of guards and the crowd has gathered to wait for them. Twin ladders are attached to the back of the rock wall, making their journey easier going _down_ the obstacle than climbing _up_ it.

"So nice of them to have ladders and everything," Poe mumbles, nearly delirious now that the challenge is over. He can feel his massive adrenaline rush fading, his muscles twitching.

"Hux. You still with me, buddy?"

Dameron reaches down to pat the general on the shoulder, but Hux flinches and swats his hand away again. The red head rises shakily to his feet. Dameron prepares to grab him at any moment in case he topples off the wall, but Hux's strong constitution holds out. They make it down the ladders without incident.

Once on the ground, the guards approach them with large white numbers. Poe watches as a giant "1" is placed on Valeri's jumpsuit—front and back, and a "2" is placed on Rox's. The numbers appear to meld into the fabric of their clothes permanently, like a brand.

"Anchor," a guard says to Rox. Then both of the Tofs are given blankets and marched back to camp.

It's his turn next, and Dameron feels the sticky press of the white "3" placed on his chest and back. The areas are warm for a moment, and then the sensation disappears. Hux is given a number "4," and Poe winces at the other man's smoldering expression.

When a scratchy maroon blanket is placed in Dameron's hands and Hux is declared "anchor," Poe waves his hand to protest at the men in uniform.

"Hey—we made it up the wall _together._ At the _same time_."

The guards stall. A few of them exchange uncertain looks, like this hasn't happened before.

 _It probably hasn't._

For a moment, Poe is certain that his dissent might actually cause the guards to reverse their original order. Dameron couldn't give a damn whether or not he won their little contest. He would rather have Hux on his good side than the crowd. But then the Lepi leader of the guards rushes in, ears bristling and whiskers prickling, and he screams at them.

"NUMBER THREE CARRIED NUMBER FOUR! NUMBER THREE IS CHAMPION! NUMBER FOUR IS ANCHOR! REPORT BACK TO THE CAMP!"

Poe resists the urge to salute—he's simply too tired to play games, and is surprised when he feels a tug on his right wrist. Hux has already begun walking ahead of him, silhouetted by the glowing orange sun as it begins to set. With an irritated sigh, Dameron stuffs the blanket under one arm and shuffles after him.

By the time they make it back to camp, it is all Poe can do to put one foot in front of the other, and he has _no idea_ how Hux is still on his feet after all he has been through. The FO general continues to surprise him.

All Dameron dreams of is going back to the warehouse and falling asleep, but first—food! The same drink and porridge stations are set up under a large tent. They wait their turn in line, and Poe notices that the other prisoners keep their distance, wary looks on their faces. Some eyes linger on his blanket with envy.

 _We've made an impression,_ Poe thinks. _Don't mess with us._

They eat silently. This time, Hux spoons the colorless sludge into his mouth without any formal complaint and drains his cup. Poe eats his portion of glop to resist his stomach from turning in knots with hunger, but he sips the tainted water—leaving a tang on his tongue different than that morning. He offers his extra ration of gruel to Hux, but the red head declines it.

After an excruciating period of silence, Poe can't help but blurt out: "I'm sorry."

Hux finishes the last of his oatmeal and yawns widely. Dameron thinks at first that maybe the general didn't hear him, and he's about to repeat his statement when Hux mutters a reply.

"What's done is done. It was my own fault—my own weakness."

Poe is about to protest when his head spins unexpectedly. He sets his spoon down on the table, hands gripping the sides to steady himself.

"What the…"

Around them, prisoners are staggering to their feet, reeling like drunks in the twilight. Others have already collapsed to the ground where they lie unmoving, some in pairs, some with partners desperately trying to pull them along with their chains.

Dameron's stomach tenses as he takes his cup of water and sniffs it.

"Those bastards…" he growls. "Did they _poison_ us?"

A sound of surprise from Hux. Poe sees the red head examine his hands as if they were the most fascinating objects in the galaxy.

"No," the general mumbles. "Tranquilizer."

Dameron finds the strength to stand and immediately feels his vision tilt unpleasantly. He grips the table again and hauls Hux to his feet via the chain, tossing the red blanket over his shoulder.

"Warehouse," he huffs out. "Now."

Hux mutters something unintelligible and falls against Dameron. The Resistance pilot places a firm hand on his back and allows the general to lean on him, his steps unsteady. Somehow, the two manage to stagger to the warehouse. Its dark interior hides bodies sleeping a drug-induced sleep, breathing as one, like some giant beast. Poe runs a shaking hand across his face and wills himself to keep it together for a few more minutes.

His vision splinters as he steers Hux in the direction where they woke up that morning, and they pass a towering creature who gnashes its teeth crankily at them.

"Evening, Sharptooth," Poe slurs with a goofy grin on his face. Because this entire day has been a little bit too much for him to handle.

When they reach their unofficially designated spot, Dameron lets Hux sink to the floor. The red head immediately curls up and is asleep. Dameron's spinning head forces him to his knees. Then he unrolls the blanket and wraps it around himself, lying down with his feet at Hux's feet, chains dividing them. Although the drugs long to pull him into a dark embrace, Dameron forces himself into a sitting position and blinks sleepily at Hux's still form. The man's pale face is luminescent in the fading light. In sleep, Hux is no more a tyrant than Rox is, than Poe is. He is simply a man with no memory who is trying to survive.

"Why do I have to be a better person?" Poe mumbles to himself.

Dameron gently drapes his blanket over the First Order general, and when he's content that Hux is comfortable (well, as comfortable as someone _can_ be on a cement floor) Poe lies back.

"G'night, Hux," he says before he succumbs to the drug and a dreamless sleep.

TBC

 **A/N:** Went on a bit of a hiatus with this one, but felt a sudden burst of inspiration and wrote another chapter. There should be at least four or five more chapters after this. Next installment includes some wonderful scheming/comforting Hux and exhausted Poe. Also, Finn seeks counsel from a friend about how to respond to Kylo's proposal. Please let me know what you think—your reviews make me smile!


	6. Some Fairytale Bliss

**Anchors**

 **Chapter 6: Some Fairytale Bliss**

Hux is dreaming of his mother.

There is no body or even an outline or shape, but there is softness. It's a softness that cannot be felt from fabric wrapped around shoulders or wind kissing your face. Yet, it is protective and open at the same time.

And she's singing to him.

He can't make out the words—maybe it's some common lullaby most mothers sing to their younglings. Still, the message of the song comes through the timbre of his mother's voice and its gentleness.

Then, the song is over, and Hux is alone again, running down a dark corridor with shiny black walls. His black boots _clack_ crisply on the polished floors. Perhaps he is back on a First Order ship! Then a voice seeps into his mind like mist.

 _Hux…_

The voice makes him pause. It's deep, masculine, and very familiar.

"Who are you?" he whispers.

The voice doesn't immediately answer back, then:

 _You don't know me?_

"No…" At first, Hux is fearful, but then he continues running, turning right, then left, down never ending corridors, hoping he'll find the source of the voice that seems to know him, echoing in his mind.

 _I will make them pay. They are going to pay for what they've done to you._

"Who are you?!" Hux shouts now, panting, his pace frantic.

 _Remember me…Remember!_

Hux wakes with a gasp, his head pounding, tongue wooly, throat dry. _I was drugged,_ he thinks. He raises a hand, and the chain connecting him to Poe rattles in warehouse. Starlight winks through tiny windows near the ceiling, shining down on the huddled masses, some snoring, others thrashing about in their sleep. Hux can make out Dameron lying a foot away from him, curled on his side, hands stuffed into his armpits for warmth. His face is dirty, and his mouth is partly open, deeply asleep. Hux himself feels quite cozy, and he is about to roll over and close his eyes when he realizes the reason for his comfort: Poe gave him his blanket.

Hux blinks.

The blanket is scratchy and smells worse than a wookie, but it's warm.

And Poe gave it to him.

Inexplicably, Hux begins to cry. Maybe it's because he dreamt of his mother. Maybe it's because the unknown voice that spoke to him was so intimate, so protective. It _cared_ about him, like his mother used to care for him. Maybe it's because Hux is exhausted and still recovering from the brutal competition of Grakkus' arena.

But Poe gave Hux (the Anchor!) the blanket when he didn't have to.

The First Order general digs his fingernails into his palms to fight the emotion welling up and leaking from his eyes.

 _C'mon, Hux. You're worse than a youngling._

At last, he sniffs and lies on his back, letting out a sigh when, all of a sudden, a familiar and infamous Dubravan fills his sight.

"I'll take that," Lund hisses.

Before Hux's still-sleepy mind can think properly, the yellow-blooded fiend grabs hold of Poe's blanket and flings it away from Hux before scuttling off.

The general's first instinct is to find and wallop the creature, or at the very least chase after him. But Hux stops when the jangling of his chain echoes in the warehouse, causing Dameron to stir in his sleep, whimpering softly. Hux tries to see where Lund could have gone, but the sleeping space is vast. Ultimately, the general chooses to stay put. There are too many sleeping bodies between him and the Dubravan, and he does not wish to wake Poe for something so trivial.

 _Trivial. Right._

Instead, Hux fights the sedatives still in his system to devise a plan to get the blanket back. He has thought of an idea within five minutes and spends the next fifteen mentally weighing its pros and cons. Then, and only then, does Hux allow his mind to wander once more, preparing the way for sleep.

It's cold in the warehouse without a blanket. Grimly, Hux finds himself pressing closer to Dameron in the darkness. The pilot won't know, after all.

Hux thinks of his plan again, and (for the first time since being chained to another man) he smiles in the darkness.

What the pilot doesn't know won't hurt him.

* * *

Finn has almost bitten off all of the skin around his nails by the time the communications link patches through.

The image on his monitor cuts into three pieces, lags, then clears up. And Finn lets out a sigh of relief for the first time since Nar Shaddaa, when everything went sideways.

She's sitting in front of what must be one of the _Falcon's_ monitors. Her hair is pulled back in its regular fashion, and she wears a gauzy grey tunic, but her skin is tan and the fabric cannot hide new muscles that accentuate the curve of her arms.

 _She's becoming even stronger,_ Finn thinks fleetingly.

"Rey," he says with another sigh. "Thank the Maker. I didn't know what I was going to do if we couldn't reach y—"

"—I am unbelievably sorry!" she bursts in, and Finn's mouth quirks into a smile because he's missed her. "Chewbacca's been working round the clock to try and patch up this hunk of junk, and I have been occupied with all the problems here. For a diplomatic mission, there has been a shocking lack of diplomacy. Same old problems, of course. But at least families are receiving much-needed supplies after the sandstorms, and the younglings without parents are being looked after, and there are more structures being built for housing and _tell me about Poe."_

Finn's jaw drops. "How did you…?

Rey scratches her temple, almost distractedly. "I sensed something a few days ago. I tried to get a message through, but our comm's been malfunctioning ever since that run-in with the fleet."

" _The_ fleet?" Finn's eyes go wide. "What happened?!"

There's a loud braying sound that can only be Chewie a few feet away. Rey rolls her eyes. "Tell you later. Tell _me_ about Dameron."

Finn catches Rey up to speed. Even though she tries to appear unfazed at the mention of Kylo Ren, the Resistance captain notes the way her eyes widen and the way she draws her tunic around her, as if it's suddenly chilly on Jakku.

After Finn finishes explaining his options, there is silence. Rey's expression is unreadable. Then she calmly folds her hands in front of her and leans forward, looking deeply into his eyes.

"You must form a plan with him."

"Rey—"

"I _know_ it's the last thing either of us would choose," the Jedi continues. "But if you do _not_ agree to his offer, Kylo Ren will attack Nar Shaddaa with every weapon at his fingertips to get Hux back, and he won't bother to save Poe in the process."

Finn sits back, massages his temples. He can't believe this is happening.

"Ren almost killed me. Rey, he almost killed _all_ of us!"

Silence. Rey's eyes are glassy. She takes a deep breath before speaking, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you want Poe back?"

Tears sting Finn's eyes unexpectedly. How long has he been awake? Over twenty four hours, at least. And during this time, he has paced, strategized, and conferred with as many Resistance leaders as he can to make a decision. But more than anything else, he has spent the time _missing Dameron._

Finn runs a hand over his eyes and nods.

"Then you know what to do."

Finn nods again, clears his throat. "I love you, Rey."

She beams back at him. "I love you—" Then she's cut off by another bark from behind her. Rey laughs. "Chewie loves you too."

The communication link cuts off abruptly, Rey's smile vanishing into black, and Finn pushes another button on his console. Ensign Crescent's voice is hoarse from lack of sleep.

"Yes, sir?"

"Put a link through to Kylo Ren."

* * *

The next day is more of the same, minus the competitions. Hux is exhausted but doesn't show it (or vocalize it) as much as Dameron. The man's incessant commentary is beginning to rub Hux's nerves raw. He had assumed that both men would choose to tolerate each other and train as much as they could individually, but there is no end to the amount of physical tasks that require both of them to rely on each other's wits or muscles to accomplish them…

First: Swimming laps + dog-paddling Dameron = laughingstock of prisoners.

Then: Lifting boulders. Literally. Boulders.

After that: Running twenty miles before lunch, because why not?

Throughout the morning, Hux glares daggers at Lund and Mako, noting the blanket they stole from him and the way they're flaunting it whenever they can in his presence.

The general hisses through his teeth as Mako throws the blanket over his shoulders and prances about with it, apparently imitating Hux. And his concentration is so focused on the Fondorian that Hux jumps when Dameron places a hand on his back.

"What do you want?" the general spits at Poe.

"Woah, woah! Easy, buddy," Dameron says. "I just wanted to tell you to ignore them. They're just trying to rile you up."

"They have succeeded," the red head says with a grimace. "The insufferable weasels! I hope that torture and pain and slow deaths await them in the near future. I hope that—"

" _Hux._ "

The general turns around, faces Dameron. The pilot opens his mouth as if to say more, then he shakes his head and says, "It's just a blanket."

"Just a blanket," Hux repeats in a mumble. "That, my friend, is where you are wrong."

The hours pass by, agonizingly slow. When Poe hauls him over to a water bin after the first half of their afternoon training, Hux is almost gleeful because it is time to put his plan in motion.

Bribing the guards for extra water rations isn't difficult. He'll give them half his food portion in the evening. In exchange, he is allowed to linger a little longer at the water bucket and take slightly larger sips. Everyone else is roughly pushed away after barely a swallow—Poe as well, his dark brown eyes hardening with betrayal—but the commander says nothing to protest the special treatment, and Hux will not explain his plan until the following morning because he knows that Dameron might give him away through blabbing.

And so Hux finds that he is hardly thirsty when evening rations roll around, all according to plan. If he was thirsty at dinner, he would be inclined to drink the drugged water and thus be unable to stay awake after all the other inmates go to sleep, which is what he intends to do.

Hux is very pleased with himself.

Poe picks up on his good mood when the other man catches him smiling to himself over dinner at a table in the shade. The sun is going down, a glowing orange balloon bobbing on the top of the prison's walls.

"What is it? You've got that _face_ again."

Hux shrugs innocently. "I'm not sure what you mean, commander."

Dameron rolls his eyes, rubbing his jaw. He looks completely done in and practically inhales his food.

"Spill it," Poe says, picking up the chain that connects them and waving it back and forth across the table.

Hux exhales with a little puff of air, clamping his hand down on the chain to stop it. He smoothly changes subjects. "I thought training went very well today."

Poe laughs with food still in his mouth ( _revolting_ ) and begins to chatter about how he has never had a more difficult time in his life and how could you not _notice_ the amount of weights he had to carry back and forth across the yard and blah blah blah.

Hux tries his best to listen, but his eyes keep flashing over to where Lund and Mako are sitting—devious little pissants that they are. _And they have no idea what's coming to them. No one steals Hux's blanket and gets away with it—_

"Are you gonna drink that?"

Hux's delightfully evil thoughts are rudely interrupted by Poe. The man's eyes are already glazed from the drugged portion of water he was given at dinner, but there's a _desperation_ in his face that suddenly tugs at Hux's innards. Who would have thought that Poe Dameron could look so much like a puppy?

"This?" Hux holds his water cup out, as if he forgot it was right in front of him.

Dameron nods slowly, mouth slightly open. "I'm really thirsty."

Hux flashes a smile that he hopes reads as _sincere_ before he hands the cup over. "Take it. I'm not that thirsty."

Poe hesitates for a millisecond before his basic needs kick in, and he's gulping down the water as if hasn't tasted anything so sweet in his entire life.

In the twilight, Hux offers to take Poe's dishes away. Dameron looks astounded at the sudden kindness and gives up his empty bowl and cups. Together, they float through the gradually quieting prison. Some prisoners have fallen asleep at the tables and are rudely awakened with a sharp kick to their ribs from the guards. Hux hears the faint jingling of chain behind him as Dameron wanders, as if in a dream, eyes drooping from exhaustion and the sedatives. Hux takes advantage of a nearby prisoner fight that distracts his partner to surreptitiously deliver the remainder of his food to the water guards. By the time he's finished, Dameron is leaning against a support beam of the water station, the back of his head propped up, eyes closed.

Hux snaps his fingers in front of Poe's nose, and the commander's eyes open blearily.

"Wha…?"

"Time for bed," says Hux. Then he leads Dameron like a pet on a leash through the rest of the encampment to the barracks. By the time they reach the large building, Poe is swaying on his feet. Hux rushes back before the other man has a chance to trip over the chain, and puts firm hands on his chest and back, supporting him.

"All right, Poe?"

Dameron murmurs something incoherently.

"That's it," Hux coos. "Just a bit further."

Poe leans heavily on him all the way until they get to their _spot_ , which (thankfully) Sharptooth has already vacated. A small tarp is crumpled in an unoccupied space nearby. The FO general picks it up, smoothes it out, then allows Poe to sink down upon it. Dameron curls up and instantly snores.

Hux lies next to him and waits for it to get a little darker in the warehouse. There is a constant low rumble of coughing, snoring, and bodies still shuffling in from outside. Through the maze of prisoners, Hux can just make out Mako and Lund, their bodies huddled amongst the others.

The general waits.

As it grows darker, he takes the chain connecting him to Poe and slowly begins to wrap it around his left arm, careful not to make any unnecessary noise. It feels cool and secure on his skin, like armor.

Once an hour has passed and most of the prisoners are asleep, Hux takes the edge of the plastic that Dameron is sleeping on and begins to drag it lightly across the concrete floor, taking the pilot with it. Poe doesn't even stir with the movement, lips parted, breathing easily. Hux's already taxed joints ache, but his will is stronger than his body. Carefully, he maneuvers himself and Poe around countless sleeping prisoners, sometimes going slower than a crawl.

But Hux is patient. At last, they are near the wicked Dubravan and Fondorian, both curled up beneath _his_ blanket. Slowly, taking care not to rattle them, Hux unravels the chain so that there is a small amount of slack. Then he loops the slack around Mako and Lund's ankles, stands over Dameron's body protectively, and cups his hands over his mouth before screaming at the top of his lungs—

"FIRE!"

Immediate, predictable panic ensues. The prisoners awake, groggy and frightened. They begin stepping over each other in a frenzy to get out of the warehouse. Inevitably, fights break out. It is utter chaos. It is complete pandemonium.

It is perfect.

Hux protects Dameron's still-sleeping form from trampling feet as Lund finally stirs and jerks Mako awake too, their eyes wide open and fearful as others' shouts of fire echo around the warehouse. Still half-asleep, the pair don't notice there is a chain wrapped around their ankles until they stand and attempt to run away.

They immediately fall on their faces.

Hux suppresses a laugh and, instead, jerks the chain backward, causing them to trip again as they attempt to find their feet. In a flash, Hux is upon them, leaning over them, chain rattling threateningly.

"You took something that's mine. I want it back."

Hux knows that on his own, he is not a physical threat, but he is hoping on the hysteria around him to generate the appropriate level of fear in his enemies.

"Take it!" Lund hisses, grabbing the scratchy brown fabric and offering it to Hux. He takes it but doesn't ease up.

Mako whines, "Let us go!"

"One more thing," Hux says, lowering himself until he is breathing into their faces. "There is no fire tonight. But if you ever harm me or Dameron again, you will be _burned_. Do you understand?"

Mako's eyes flash to Lund. Lund visibly swallows and nods. Hux's chain whips away from them, and they run from his sight. By now, sirens are screaming into Hux's ears, and Dameron finally begins to stir. Hux allows himself a small chuckle and kneels beside Poe. Seconds later, the alarms shut off. He can hear the Lepi from outside the warehouse, screaming for the dayshift prisoners to go back inside.

"Wazzat?" Poe mumbles. His eyes flutter open, unfocused. "Finn?"

Hux cocks his head at the mention of the name. "No, it's Hux. Go back to sleep, Poe."

Dameron's shoves his hands into his armpits, shivering.

The general places a hand on Poe's shoulder, worried that the other man might have gotten injured during the stampede of prisoners. "What's wrong?"

Dameron's eyes are closed now, but his teeth chatter. "So c-cold in h-here."

Hux swiftly takes the blanket in his hands and drapes it over Poe's body. Then he begins to drag Dameron back to their usual sleeping place. Other prisoners are pouring back into the warehouse, some grumbling, most grateful to be unharmed.

By the time Hux drags Dameron back to their original spot, the pilot is no longer shuddering. So Hux joins him under the blanket, completely exhausted and entirely satisfied.

 **TBC**

 **A/N:** I think Hux is channeling Moriarty slightly in this chapter. I know it's been ages since I last updated. Thank you for sticking with this fic! What do you all think? :)


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